


Would you let me help?

by keyungso



Series: hold me tight, will you? [2]
Category: TharnType the Series (TV)
Genre: M/M, TharnType, angst lol, childtrauma, thereisfluffifyousquint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:28:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23805358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keyungso/pseuds/keyungso
Summary: Type’s never been good in expressing his feelings. Tharn notices.
Relationships: Tharn Kirigun/Type (TharnType)
Series: hold me tight, will you? [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1704826
Comments: 16
Kudos: 284





	Would you let me help?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [xTheLastOfUs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xTheLastOfUs/gifts).



> i’ve been feeling down lately so i made this :,) hope you guys like it. warning: there are mentions of rape.

If someone had asked him 4 months ago if he’d ever see himself, smiling and cuddled up with one of the most attractive man to set foot planet while watching a whole marathon of Harry Potter, he would have laughed and said no. And also maybe beat the person asking up.

Not because he has anger management issues and he likes beating people up for no reason, which is also true because he _does_ have anger management and he _does_ like beating epople up for fun, which totally have reduced ever since he met Tharn. That stupid goof had somehow convinced him to take anger management therapy, which Type finds actually helpful now.

But that’s not the point. The point is he’d beat the person asking because he really wouldn’t expect his life to turn upside down like this. For all his life, he’s always felt alone and different because of the rape incident. His mom and dad tried to help of course, by sending him off to therapy and all that, but Type notices how they always try to hide it. They never talked about it fully, never had a full on conversation with Type telling him hey it’s okay. Things happen to people and all we can do is just move on from it. It’s always _oh my god my poor baby. Poor type his life is ruined._

Which made him believe it was something he has to be ashamed of. So, obviously he grew scared of other people knowing. He got scared of how people would react if they’d find out he was taken by a mysterious man into a dark, empty storage room and forced to do things he still has nightmares about? That was why he stopped making friends all together. Deleted all his contacts. Cursed people who wanted to help. Shut his family out. Because he thought that maybe if he hurt them first, then they woulnd’t be able to hurt him.

“Don’t worry. It won’t hurt even the slightest.”

He sits up, eyes open and mouth gape wide as he tries to catch his breath. He blinks himself awake when he realizes where he is. Tharn’s bedroom, The one things visible are the silhoette of the furnitures in the dim light. It feels cold and his throat feels dry. He glances to the side, letting out a particular stronger breath when he sees his boyfriend sleeping. His hair has grown longer and it covers the top of his eyes whenever he ducks his head slightly down.

Throwing off the covers, he silently walks his way out of the room and towards the kitchen. Tharn’s moved out from his previous dorm to a bigger apartment. He says it’s more comfortable as now Type’s always almost coming over everyday anyway.

He passes through the infamous cabinet, the cabinet Tharn spefically bought to store all the medical supplies, usually used on Type. But Type doesn’t really get into fights these months, whcih Tharn hadn’t forgot to reward him with a night full of hard, passionate sex. Type feels his cheeks warming as his mind remembers the details.

He takes a glass bottle from one of the cupboard and pours himself a bottle of water. As he’s drinking it, hoping to ease the dry throat, his boyfriend’s sleepy, deep voice halts him for a second.

“Type? Are you okay?”

He gulps down the water, setting the cup down before turning towards him. His boyfriend is wearing a loose blue tanktop and a pair of black boxers. One of the sleeves has droppe down to the bottom of his shoulder but he doesn’t seem to pay mind any mind. His eyes are sleepy but wide in concern.

“Just thirsty.”

The sides of his lips twitch slightly upwards when he feels strong hands place itself on his waist. His head turns to the side, enough to see his boyfriend’s sharp nose and pout as he hugs him from behind.

“Come on,” Tharn says softly, wrapping his arms around his waist and nuzzling his face in his neck. “Can’t go back to sleep without you.”

Type lets out a huff, smiling nevertheless. “Clingy baby,” he teases.

Tharn just hums and hugs him closer.

—

He hasn’t told him yet.

He wants to. He’s sure Tharn wouldn’t look at him differently. Tharn is different, and special. And super super nice, which gets Type wondering how the hell didhe end up with such an amazing person?

Tharn can help him. Can help me handle whatever that has been bothering him these past weeks. Just like he’s helped him with his anger management issues, and his bruises and cuts after fights, with university stress, with handling emotions. Type’s sure Tharn won’t act differently with this.

_This is different. You got raped, Type. It’s completely different than a simple cut on your hand. What if he’ll get freaked out and leave?_

No he won’t. He’s Tharn.

_What makes you so sure, Type? You were so sure that night was going to be a great time to spend playing soccer outside in the moonlight and instead you had to spread your legs and-_

“Baby, can you pass me the salt?”

Type blinks, eyes sliding over to Tharn’s dark brown ones, which darken in concern when he sees Type’s face.

“You okay?” Tharn’s voice grow soft and Type watches as he turns off the stove and immediately goes to Type, cupping his cheeks and tilting his head up to look at him. His heart warms in the action but he smiles as he shakes his head.

“Just tired.”

“You wanna cuddle and nap a little bit? I’ll bring you the food right after.”

Type shakes his head again. “I want to cuddle and nap with you.” And he sighs internally in relief when Tharn chuckles at that, seemingly dropping the subject and turning back towards the food.

“And you call me clingy,” he teases, giving Type a side grin.

“Never said I wasn’t,” Type retorts. He tiptoes to reach and open the cupboard in front of him. “Salt?”

“Thank you,” Tharn says, taking the bottle of salt and showering the eggs with a pinch of it. Type watches him from behind, his chin comfortably settled on Tharn’s shoulder and his arms around Mew’s abs.

“Smells good,” he comments softly.

“Really?” Tharn says as he flips the egg over and covers the pan with the lid. He turns around to face Type, holding him close by the waist. His nose brushes against the soft skin of his boyfriend’s cheek, nuzzling it. “You smell better though.”

Type hums, lips twitching up at the sides, fully aware on where this is going. His finger trace lighly on the back of Tharn’s neck before slipping his fimgers into the roots of his hair and gripping it, tilting his boyfriend’s head up just slightly.

“I taste better, I bet.”

“Wanna test it out?” Tharn leans in mumbles hotly against his ear, sending shivers down his spine. He feels Tharn lick a stripe up his earlobe and Type can’t help the soft moan that escapes his lips.

He leans back slightly, enough to take a glimpse of Tharn’s dark eyes, gazing deeply through his and looking at him so intensely and then Type doesn’t waste anymore time in shoving their lips together in a heated kiss.

Their kiss grows messy, just like how Type likes it. He likes feeling desperate for Tharn, likes the feeling of clinging onto his boyfriend. He feels Tharn’s tongue against his lower lip, asking for permission. Parting his mouth, he moans softly when Tharn pulls him closer, his tongue exploring all his caverns.

He feels Tharn’s hands grip his waist and lifts him up (which confuses him to be honest, they’re almost the same height but how is Tharn able to carry him like a ragdoll?) and Type immediately wraps his legs around his waist, arms hugging Tharn’s neck.

Tharn places him on the empty part of kitchen counter, standing between his thighs, mumbling against his lips. “Are you still sore from yesterday?”

“A little bit,” Type sighs, closing his eyes in bliss when Tharn places soft kisses down his neck, sucking on his pulse wetly. His fingers, on his thigh, rub circles against the soft skin. “Still wanna fuck though,” he says again, knowing how soft his boyfriend can be.

“Masochist,” Tharn teases, placing a chaste kiss on his lips.

“Fuck off,” Type flushes, pulling Tharn back to his neck, “You like it.”

“I do,” Tharn mumbles, chuckling softly that Type can feel the air tickling his skin and he shivers slightly. “You taste so good baby.”

Type smirks, “Better than the eggs, huh?”

He feels Tharn freeze against him, the kisses stopping abruptly and he’s about to ask him what’s wrong when his boyfriend tears himself away from him and curses, “ _Fuck_ , the _eggs_. I forgot-“

And so he watches with amusement as Tharn hastily turns off the stove and blows profusely on the halfly burnt eggs, loudly praying to whoever up there to protect my precious babies please I don’t wanna make anymore I wanna fuck my boyfriend please.

—

Type watches with lidded eyes as his boyfriend sleeps. His breathing is slower than usual, noting the obvious fatigue from their previous heated activities. It’s not something Type’s vocal about, but he likes to wake up in the middle of their nap and watch Tharn in his slumber. Is it weird? He doesn’t know. He likes studying Tharn’s features closely even though he literally has every inch of skin in his boyfriend’s body embedded in his brain.

Slowly, he brings his hand towards Tharn’s face, faintly brushing his thumb over his high cheekbones. Tharn’s undeniably attractive, probably the most attractive man Type’s ever had. He remembers when they met the first time and Type had the immediate thought if he was a model. “That’s sweet, but modelling is too tiring for me,” Tharn said when Type asked him if he’d ever considered modelling, “Besides, I don’t think a particular someone would be happy if I show this body off to anyone but him.” Type stuck his tongue out like a spoiled brat but dropped the question, a satisfied smile tugging on the ends of his lips.

His finger slides up to his brows, feeling the soft hair under his fingertips. He also remembers when he came home one day and saw Tharn with a greenish liquid covering all of his face, except for his brows, eyes and lips.

“What is that?” He asked in disgust.

“Face mask.”

“Oh,” Type frowned. What’s a face mask for? He doesn’t know. He washed his face with soap.

Tharn’s already attached to him, hugging him but careful not to smear his mask. “I bought extra. You wanna try?”

“But I don’t want to touch it. You have to put it on for me,” Type huffed, ignoring the warmth spreading on his cheeks.

“Such a baby.”

“Fuck off- Ai’Tharn, don’t kiss me when you have that- _Tharn_!”

Type feels the sides of his lips twitching up in the memory. Now, they do face masks once every week. They’ll sit by the couch, facing each other and Tharn will do everything for him because honestly he loves being pampered by his boyfriend… Not that he would ever admit it to him. Then they’ll sit by the couch and watch a TV, eating whatever was left from the dinner before.

His fingers reach up to Tharn’s soft locks that’s falling over his eyes and tucks it behind his ear. It’s been a while since they’ve both got their hair cut. Maybe they can go next week.

His eyes drop to his lips and Type leans in slowly, careful not to wake him and press their lips together in a bare breath of a kiss. Then he shifts around so his back is pressing against Tharn’s and pulls his boyfriend’s arm to wrap around his waist. Tharn’s still deep asleep but Type feels him pull him closer. He smiles and finally closes his eyes.

He wakes up from noises. From somewhere in another room. And he makes his way there, his surroundings almost completely black. There’s a small opening of light ahead of him and the sounds get clearer and louder as he approaches it.

“Are you fucking insane?”

“I’m trying my best. Don’t give me that bullshit.”

“He got raped, for fucks sake! He’s broken!”

“It’s not my fault! I was working! Maybe if you stop going out with your friends so much, our son wouldn’t have wandered off!”

Type opens the door, frowning in confusion when his parents immediately halt in his voice, head turning towards him like deers stuck in the headlights.

“Mom? Dad? What are you doing?”

“Type! Baby!” His mom says, going to him and leaning in front of him to his height. He’s back to his child self, he realizes. “What are you doing up so late?”

I don’t know, he wants to answer but his mouth opens by itself and he finds himself yawning. “Can’t sleep.” It’s like watching a movie but from the first point of view.

“Oh no. Why is that?”

“I’m scared of the man, mommy. What if he comes back?”

His mom blinks at him, her lips parted slightly in surprise. She glances towards dad for a second but his dad just sighs and looks away.

Type frowns when his mom slowly turns back to him, a tight smile on her lips. “O-Of course not, honey. He’s in jail right now, he’ll never get you again.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really.”

“Okay,” Type hears himself saying. “Goodnight.” He walks back out the door, back into the darkness but he doesn’t miss the muffled cries his mother left out and her mumbles of my poor baby.

The darkness turns in front of him, like a deformed puzzle pieces into different directions and he feels being pulled back, pulled hard harshly suddenly. He’s still in the dark, but the air is completely different. It’s cold. Way colder. It feels like the wind is piercing his skin. His heart quickens as he feels something off.

A soft shuffling of voice ahead of him surprises him. Type frowns harder. What the fuck is this dream about? He tries to move, but he finds himself stuck. It’s dark. Completely dark so he can’t see where he is. Then realization hits him like a truck in his gut. It punches the breath out of him, as light deems above him, showing him tied to a chair with old, thick ropes around his wrists and ankles.

His throat goes dry immediately and he pulls harder, breathing getting harder and harder. Fuck. Not this again.

The shuffling starts again and it’s louder this time and Type gets even more nervous, all his hairs sticking up in fear and he pulls against the rope with all his might. He’s had the same dream over and over and over again yet why is he still scared? Why does he keep trying to escape when he knows deep down at the end he’ll still be tied here?

“Little boy, do you know it’s foolish to follow a stranger in the night?”

Type shivers hearing the voice, shaking his head aggressively like he’s trying to block it out. “Fuck! _No_! I don’t need this sh-“

“Don’t worry, child. It won’t hurt even the slightest.”

He comes nearer. But Type can’t see his face. He just sees a dark shadow, getting nearer and nearer to him.

“ _Please_ , just leave me alone-“

“I’ll always come back, my boy. I’ll always be with you.”

He wakes up screaming, struggling to breaths and he tries to take in the new surroundings. Tharn’s sitting beside him, looking at him with worry. He immediately throws himself towards his boyfriend, trying his best in holding the tears from spilling. He can feel some of the dried bits on his face.

“Baby, baby are you okay?”

He lets go a shaky breath, nodding. His hands are shaking, clutching onto Tharn’s sleeves so tightly. He tries to let go but he can’t. It feels like he’s still there. In that fucking room with that fucking rapist. When will he finally be free? When can he finally be normal?

“I’m here, Type. I’m here,” he hears Tharn’s soothing voice break his thoughts, his hand on his back rubbing softly. The warmth of his boyfriend, the way he’s holding onto him and talking to him. All of that takes over his senses and he narrows his universe to the feeling of Tharn and Tharn only.

“I’m here, baby. I’m always here,” Tharn whispers. And Type feels himself calming down. Everything comes back to him and goes into place. The feeling of his fingers comes back to him and he’s able to unclasp his hold. Tharn lets him go, but cups his hands to Type’s face, looking at him in concern. Type tries not to show anything as Tharn searches for his eyes.

“Are you okay?”

Type nods. “Just nightmare.”

“Must have been a hell of a nightmare,” Tharn frowns and Type can feel his boyfriend’s voice even if he’s not saying it. Stern yet soft, saying ‘What are you not telling me, Type?’ but Tharn just sighs and shakes his head, chuckling meekly. “You scared the shit out of me, you know? Screaming in your sleep like that.”

“Sorry,” Type says.

“Don’t apologize,” Tharn pecks his forehead, “Just glad you’re okay now.” He glances at Type again, an eyebrow raised. “Are you?”

Type nods. He looks down to his fingers, which are playing with Tharn’s. He does that unknowingly when he’s on edge. Raising his head, he gives his cutest smile. “Can you make pancakes for me?”

Tharn’s raised eyebrow raised even more, a small smirk tugging on the side of his lips. “Pancakes?”

Nodding his head, Type pulls on Tharn’s hands like a child, giving him his biggest puppy dogs eyes and pout. He didn't really need to do all that, cause he knows Tharn will cook him anything he wants with a mere breath but it’s fun watching Tharn blush in front of him. There’s another reason of guilt but Type tries not to think about that.

“Alright,” Tharn sighs dramatically but he’s smiling. Type closes his eyes and tilts his head up when Tharn kisses his forehead, “You go shower. I’ll make us pancakes.”

Type watches from the bed as Tharn lets him go and heads to the door. He bites his lip, feeling empty all of the sudden.

“Love you,” he calls out softly when Tharn is at the door. It comes out without thinking.

Tharn falters slightly, since Type almost never says it. But also since he said it so unexpectedly. He’s a man of actions, not words. A feeling of warmth spreads inside him as he turns his head back and smiles at him. “ I love you too.”

\--

Type looks at his reflection. His hair is wet from the shower, sticking to his face and his eyes are droopy and solemn. He sighs, dropping his face on his hands. Maybe he needs a break. Maybe he should go to a club or something. Get himself a couple of drinks and let himself cool down. Maybe next week.

He drags his hands off and puts on his clothes. He shuts the lights off as he walks out and closes the door behind him. Almost immediately, a faint smell of eggs and butter filled his nose strills, making him smile. He makes his way to the kitchen, the smell getting stronger and stronger.

Tharn’s turned away from him, putting the freshly made pancakes onto their plates and Type walks quietly behind him, wrapping his arms around his waist and peeking from above his shoulder.

“Done?”

Tharn tilts his head to the side, grinning. “Fast, aren’t I?”

“Could be faster,” Type shrugs, “But this is good enough, I guess.”

“Spoiled.”

“I know.”

Tharn’s finished plating and Type lets go, stepping back and taking his plate. He waits as Tharn takes their forks and a bottle of maple syrup.

“Couch or table?” Tharn asks him.

“Any. We can fuck in both, right?”

“What- Type, you just showered.”

“But it’s maple syrup.”

“We’ve tried that be-”

“No. That was chocolate.”

“......Alright good point, let’s take the table so it won’t stain.”

\--

Techno’s laughing at something Champ said a while ago. Type watches as Champ sticks his tongue out and laughs along. A smile grazes through Type’s lips as he watches their antics. They’re in the soccer field, sweating and tired from their usual routine. Type’s sitting on the ground with his legs apart, a ball in between his legs as he casually rolls it around every now and then.

He met Techno and Champ two months ago. After meeting Tharn, apparently his personality has improved and he seemed like a cool guy. That was what Techno said when he first greeted him. Type rolls his eyes in the memory. He found out they were actually entertaining and kind of stupid, which Type sometimes wonder how the hell are they even friends. A whole circus and they didn’t care when Type revealed he has a boyfriend.

“Damn Type. You got him? You?” Techno said, looking at Type like he’s grown another head.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Type mumbles, snatching his phone back before Techno can hurl him another insult. Champ’s eating beside them and leans closer when hearing their ruckus. “What? Type got a girlfriend?”

“No,” Techno smacked his head. “Even better. He got himself a handsome model.”

Champ raised his eyebrows, “Handsome?”

Type shoved his phone towards him, biting his lip as he waited for the outburst. A guy? Seriously? You’re dating a guy? Even after a guy raped you?

“Ey. Not bad, Type. Not bad at all. Did you pay him? How’d a guy like you get a guy like him?”

Type let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. His friends were looking at him, waiting for his answer. Tension left his body as he smirked, “Me? He’s the one who should be lucky to have me.”

“What the fuck was that?”

“Fuck off, no. Let me have my moment!”

Type chuckles at the memory as Techno and Champ take a seat in front of him, forming a tiny circle.

“So, Type. Tomorrow Earl is hosting a party in the club. She’s paying all the drinks,” Techno says grinning. Type raises an eyebrow.

“And food too. I heard that Sunkissed has the best chicken wings in Thailand bro,” Champ nods.

“Sunkissed?” Type says, “the new club near the beach?”

“Yeah, with the cool neon lights and all that.”

“Who is Earl again?”

“Ai’Type. Earl. The girl with long hair. Always using those fake lashes in class,” Techno sighs when Type blinks slowly like a confused cat. “The one with earrings as big as my hand.”

Type snaps his fingers, “Ow. Earring girl. Yes, I remember.”

“Yeah yeah,” Champ waves him off, “That’s her. So, you coming or not?”

Type smirks, “Anything free you know I’m always down.”

His friends cheer and the conversation smoothly turns to Techno’s complain about their Maths teacher who he claims is so biased in giving out grades. Just because Kara gives him sloppy handjobs every single day, does not mean he can give her 100 just like that.

“Then you give him handjobs.”

“Fuck _off_ , Type!!!”

—

He hasn’t had these for a long time.

The hurting in his chest. The difficulty to breathe. The weak feeling in his knees. The watering of his eyes.

So why now? He thinks to himself angrily, nails pushing against the bathroom floor as he tries taking deep breaths to calm himswlf down.

“You like football kid? You wanna see a place where you can play freely?”

Fuck, Type drops his head on his hands, clenching his teeth. He can’t get up. He can’t fucking take in oxygen. And now he can’t shut that bastard’s voice out of his mind?

“Are there other kids around?”

“Of course. Come come, let me show you.”

Type shakes his head furiously as his hands grip his hair harshly. The voices stop. Barely. Pain always helps. He knows it’s problematic but it works.

“Type, are you in there?” Tharn’s voice comes from outside and Type’s heart stops as he quickly rubs off the fresh tears on his face. His hands are shaking.

“Type?”

He opens his mouth to talk. “Yeah..” It comes out weak but he hopes Tharn’s still able to hear him. He knows his boyfriend. If Type doesn’t answer him again, Tharn’ll think of the worst and will probably kick the door down.

“Are you alright? You’ve been in there for a while now.”

His heart warms hearing Tharn’s worried, soft voice. _God_ , he has the most caring, precious, amazing boyfriend in the world who would literally do anything for him and he can’t even tell him he’s probably having a slight mental breakdown?

He tries his best to swallow hard and it does work a little bit. His breathing improves slightly and he uses this time to say, “Yeah...Just….Pooping.”

Fuck.

“Oh,” Tharn’s voice sounds surprised, yet relieved. “Alright baby. Enjoy...enjoy your poop.”

Type doesn’t answer him. He licks his dry lips and gazes at the floor. The tears are starting to clump around his eyes, blurring his vision. His heart has stopped hurting, but it feels heavy. He feels heavy. He feels like there’s a huge weight on him, as big as the world and he doesn’t know how long he can hold it.

He spends a couple of minutes sitting on the bathroom floor like that, before he forces himself to stand up and find Tharn.

Tharn’s on the sofa, watching some thriller movie. He’s in the middle of increasing the volume when he notices Type and his arm falls slightly.

“Hey, good poop?” He says.

Type drops himself beside him and snuggles close, smiling tiredly and letting out a sigh when Tharn immediately wraps an arm around him and pulls him closer.

If he notices the puffy eyes and messy hair, he doesn’t mention it.

—-

It’s a great bar, Type gives it his word.

The music is so loud, he can feel it in his blood, pumping together with his heart. The empty drink in his hands is the shade of different color, blue red and sometimes purple, reflecting the blinking lights covering the room. It’s almost completely dark and he wonders where Techno and Champ are in the crowd of people. Probably trying to get close to the girls, he mused.

He sees one of the girls he recognizes from his class. A petite girl, with round glasses and freckles around her cheeks. Her short hair bounces up and down as she jumps to the music. Type lets out an amused sigh. Didn’t know she has it in her. She seems so shy in university.

It passes his mind on how many glasses did he actually swallow down, but he can make a safe bet it’s more than usual when he feels his head getting lighter and lighter. The music grows louder and he finds himself nodding to the beat.

“Hey, Type!” Techno bumps against him, making him open his eyes and turn his head to the side. His friend is laughing, taking a huge gulp from the beer bottle in his hand. Type raises his eyebrow in amusement. It’s always nice seeing Techno enjoying himself.

Techno gulps and lets out a satisfied sigh. “You’re not dancing?”

Type shakes his head. “Nah..”

“Ya scared?” Techno laughs.

“Scared of what?”

“Scared I’ll find out how much of a shit dancer you are.”

Type smirks, shaking his head. He grabs the bottle from Techno and takes a quick gulp himself. “You wish.”

Techno grins, then he glances around. “Where’s Champ?”

“I saw him competing with Dean from Statistics.”

“Competing on what?”

“Who can eat the most hotdogs without throwing up.”

“Fuck! I gotta see that!”

He leaves the beer bottle with Type and runs off to god knows where. Type reaches into his back pocket and feels for his phone. It’s still twelve past a few minutes but he feels like he’s been here for hours. Maybe cause he’s been chugging the drinks like a goddamn maniac… He looks down to the already empty bottle. Maybe. He places the bottle as he reads a text from Tharn.

_I’ll be out late with Techno tonight_ , he typed before coming here.

_Alright baby :) Have fun._ Tharn replied a few minutes ago.

Type giggles, reading it. Tharn likes to put random faces in his texts and honestly, Type finds it endearing. He can always picture Tharn’s actual face doing the emojis he sends. He smirks, the alcohol buzzing through his system and making him feel tingly all over.

He’s about to text something suggestive to his boyfriend when he feels a hand on his shoulder. He looks up, frowning when a man is leaning towards him with a sly smile.

“What’s a pretty boy like you doing alone?”

Type scoffs, shrugging off the hand. He’s never seen this man in university, so he’s probably a regular in this club.

“Not interested,” he replies smoothly, eyes sliding back to his phone. Should he send a selfie to Tharn where he’s biting his lips and giving him that needy look his boyfriend absolutely loves? Make him beg Type to come home? Maybe, Type laughs internally.

“Come on, pretty boy. Dance with me, will you?”

Type rips his arm away and takes a step back when the man tries to hold his hand again. The selfie he was going to take is left forgotten as bubbles of rage form within him. He shoves his phone into his pocket, glaring at the man. He didn’t get a good look before but now he can, judgingly scanning him up and down. The man’s just slightly taller than him, probably because of his brown hair tied into a man bun. The stained white undershirt sticks to his skin, paired with a pair of loose jeans that hangs so low Type can see the bright neon underwear band poking out.

“I said fuck off, I’m not interested,” he snaps.

The man whistles, which Type wouldn’t have known only by looking, due to the massive forest on his face. Beards aren’t really his thing. Especially on a man who smells like cheap cologne even from a mile away. “Feisty. I like feisty.”

Type wastes no time in grabbing the empty bottle from the table and smashing the bottom, the loud crash making people around him gasp and quiet down slightly. He hears a couple of girls screaming and running away but he doesn’t care. He’s fucking tipsy and all he cares about is sliding this bottle across that pervert’s neck.

“The _fuck_ did you sa-”

“Woah woah woah!” Techno’s voice suddenly appears and Type finds his hands suddenly held back by Champ. He lets Champ take the bottle away from him. His eyes are fixed towards the man, who’s still fucking grinning at him with those snake-like eyes. A slight of fear passes through him as he realizes where he’s seen that expression before.

“Sorry, sorry, he’s just super drunk,” Techno laughs nervously to the guy.

Type doesn’t say anything. He watches as the guy waves dismissively to Techno before walking backwards, hands on his pockets. Type doesn’t miss the quick wink he gives before disappearing into the crowd.

The people around them have started to go back to whatever they were doing and the noise starts increasing again. Type doesn’t resist when Champ makes him sit down. His heart is still beating so fast and he tries taking a couple of deep breaths.

“The fuck, Type? What happened?” Techno says, scratching the back of his head.

Type shrugs, not wanting to explain and get all mad again. Fuck, maybe coming here to forget about his problems isn’t really a good idea after all. God, he needs a drink.

He doesn’t need to see the concerned looks Techno and Champ pass to each other. Techno hands him a glass of water. “Here here. Drink this first.”

Type takes it. It helps.

“You guys go back. I’m just going to stay here for a while. Too tired to dance,” he says.

“Are you crazy? We left you for a while and you almost tried to kill a guy,” Champ laughs.

Type smirks, rubbing his eyes. “That’s a one time thing. I’ll stay here this time.”

“You sure?” Techno asks, “Do you want me to text Tha-“

“No,” Type cuts him off sharply. Then he blinks, dropping the hand that went up abruptly. “No, don’t tell Tharn. He gets worried when I pick fights.”

“Well, obviously. Who wouldn’t?”

Type sighs, “Just don’t tell him. I don’t wanna have an argument with him.”

Techno and Champ share another look.

“I’m fine, you guys. Just go back and have fun,” Type press. It’s still slightly weird to have people care about you. He was so used on being alone and taking care of himself.

“You serious?” Techno asks again.

“Yes.”

“Serious, serious?”

“Techno, if you make me answer that one more time, I’m going to smack you.”

Techno laughs. “Alright. Alright. Fine.”

Type shoos them away, waving off their reminders to stay nice and don’t cause any trouble, Ai’Type, I didn’t bring any cash with me. When his friends are out of sight, he sighs and drops his head on his hands. It’s coming back. His memories are fucking coming back because of that fucking pervert. That face. That face that has haunted him since he was 5 keeps reappearing in his mind, scaring him shitless like he’s a child.

He wonders what would happen if he hadn’t caused so much ruckus like before. If he had stayed quiet and just walked away? Would it be any better?

Just like you’re trying to walk away from him? Walk away from the fact that you were raped? You can’t. You never will.

Type shakes his head. No, he would never stay quiet. He’s always dealt with things with his hands in the past. Why would he change? Nothing changes. He always will be the same small angry Type. With no friends. No attention from his parents. He wonders why Tharn hasn’t left him yet. He should. Tharn deserves better.

Fuck. He needs another drink.

—

To be honest, Techno doesn’t believe Type the slightest. They’ve known each other for only a few months, but he knows Type likes to play tough on the outside.

“Dude, what the fuck happened?” He remembers when he saw Type on the ground with his hand on his stomach, stained with blood.

Type raised his eyes to meet his, slightly surprised to see his friend. “Just a cut.”

“Just a cut?” Techno made a face, “Bitch you look like you just got run over by a truck!”

Type shrugged, “I’m fine.” Then he winces as he moves.

Techno sighed, crouching down to his best friend. “No you’re not, you idiot. You can’t even walk yourself to the clinic.”

As Type stayed silent, Techno immediately pulled Type’s hand to wrap it around his neck and pulled the boy up. They stumbled a little due to Type’s bigger size, but they managed to start walking.

Techno sighed, “Why can’t you just admit it when you need help, you stubborn asshole?”

Type gave him a small smile. “Thank you, No.”

Huffing and feeling embarrassed in Type’s sudden gratitude, he waved him off. “Ya ya. You better be.”

Type’s always been like that, Techno thinks. When he saw him in class for the first time, he noticed how he always sat at the back of the class. He didn’t talk to any of the students and would always give that glare to anyone who dared to. Techno thought he was trouble back then and he didn’t really want to give a shit on things he didn’t care about so he did nothing.

Suddenly though, there was a change. Type started to sit next to people. Techno remembered the shock he felt when Type suddenly sat next to him. But the boy still didn’t utter a word to anyone. He kept to himself. However, Techno noticed the slight glance from Type whenever people were laughing or just talking. He would look at them longingly with an unreadable gaze.

So one day Techno grew the balls to talk to him.

He got ignored, obviously. But not completely. Type’s still got a huge wall built around him which sometimes crack Techno up like the fuck? It’s like he’s a precious artifact or something. Type gave quiet hums here and there so Techno took that as an encouragement.

He did the same the next day. Sat next to him and rambled about whatever he thought about. Still no full sentence response, but at least Type let out a small “Oh.”

It went on for a few more days before Type started to talk back and joke around with him. Then Champ got into it and now the three of them are kind of inseparable. Champ offered him to join the soccer team and he did.

Techno knew Type probably had been through some shit before, but he hasn’t asked him about it. He doesn’t have the desire to. When Type’s ready to open up to him, he would tell him himself.

He knows Tharn has a huge impact on this boy’s change. He knows how soft Type’s voice goes whenever he talks about him. How he tries so hard not to smile. It’s fun to tease him about it.

When Type told them to leave him and go back to dancing, Techno knew that boy probably meant the complete opposite. But Techno wanted him to cool down a bit alone. It’s been probably 20 minutes. Techno’s super tired of dancing and Champ is probably eating (again) and so he slips away from the crowded dance floor and makes his way to check on Type.

It’s like past 2 am now and some of the people have left the club. He goes to the place with a bunch of sofas he last saw Type.

He saw a figure passed out on the couch and he’s about to laugh and shout some stupid joke out when he comes close enough for the light to shine on the face, revealing someone who is not Type.

He stops, heart dropping as he looks around the place in panic. Shit shit shit _shit_.

Type’s gone.

—

Type didn’t mean to go out without telling Techno and Chamo beforehand but he was too drunk and lazy to make his way through the crowd and he knew that techno would probably follow him out. He needed some time alone. It’s late, he’s fucking tired and the booze is starting to really mess with his head a little bit.

He went out through the quickest way he could find. Which was the back door. He opened it and stumbles outside, taking a long, deep breath of the cool, fresh air. It’s refreshing compared to the humid atmosphere inside.

“Well. Well. Well. Feisty decided to come join me at the end.”

Type hangs his head up at the voice, letting out a chuckle and puffing out one side of his cheeks with his tongue in irritation. He tilts his head to the side.

God, this asshole is really asking for his ass kicked.

“Imagine what you could’ve done to me if your friend hadn’t stopped you.”

Type smirks, cracking his neck a few times before walking towards the man, hands gripping into fists.

“Why don’t we find out huh?”

His body feels lighter than usual. Maybe because he probably drank a gallon of alcohol. But it’s good cause he doesn’t even feel it when his fist hits the man's face.

He smirks when the man stumbles back, a hand going up to his cheek as he cries out in pain. Type licks his lips in satisfaction. Guess he still got it.

“There’s more where that came from,” he says.

“Why don’t you just open your prett-“

He lands another one on his stomach. And as the man doubles over in pain Type uses this time to swiftly get a handful of his hair while shooting his knee up, kicking him in the nose. He hears a grunt and a soft crack.

He wavers back, wiping his lower lip with the back of his palm as he watches the man fall on the ground, hand holding his nose. Blood drips down to the grey asphalt under him like rain.

“Don’t ever come near me again,” Type hisses, but his voice falters at the end when the man finally looks up and meets his gaze and he’s still smiling.

He’s still smiling, looking at Type just like….just like how that man did when was caught the police, grinning at Type through the window.

Type steps back and suddenly his body feels heavy. He feels the adrenaline leaves his system, replaced with cold fear. Why- _why_ is he still smiling? Why-

The man moves and Type watches him in horror. He watches him, unable to move and breath as his bloodied finger reaches up excruciatingly slow and points forward.

Type ignores the pain in the back of his head and turns around, only to see more men, using all black clothes and masks charging towards him.

Fuck.

He threw his forearms up in an X in a defensive stance, however one of them slips onto the side, and Type makes the mistake of turning his gaze towards him. A sudden gush of pain jolted throughout Type’s body. He stumbles back, and he doesn’t have enough time to recover from that kick on his stomach when the person on the side takes out a small knife and cuts forward.

Type moves away barely a second earlier, but it still slices against his skin. He grunts in the sharp pain.

“Are you fucking-“ he jumps back to avoid a kick. “-kidding me?”

Shit. His mind is so fuzzy. He’s fucking drunk as shit and the pervert expects him to fight off, how many guys even are there? Six? Seven? Where the fuck did he even get these men?

He charges forward, grabbing the leg and pulling it forward. He kicks the man back on his stomach with so much force while still holding his leg he hears a soft crack. The one on the left moves closer but Type quickly releases one hand and punches him back. He sends another leg onto the ribcage, forcing him unconscious and Type drops him.

He charges to the one on the right, jabbing him across the stomach. The knife on his hand shimmers in the light and Type immediately holds the arm down before he can lift it up. Type smirks as the guy meets his gaze, before slamming his head down against his and making him go limp to the ground.

Sharp pain meets him again as he jerks forward with the sudden kick on his back. He turns around, cursing out when it hits again, on his cheek. His head is forced to turn to the other side with another punch. His mind is dizzy and he can taste the iron feel of blood on his tongue.

In a second, he’s thrown back, the back of his head hitting the cold, hard wall behind him and he staggers to get back up. Did it crack? He doesn’t know. It hurts yet it doesn’t. Maybe he shouldn’t have came here.

“Don’t-“ he grunts in pain when one guy kicks him in the stomach. He drops his head down, coughing out blood that spatters across the pavement. Shit. He’s in big trouble now.

“Not so tough now, huh?” The smiley guy is back, walking towards him. Type sees the purple color forming around his eye and he sneers. “Pathetic.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said you’re pathetic.”

“Why sweetheart?” He crouches down so that they’re facing eye to eye. An unsettling feeling bubbles in Type’s gut but he keeps his eyes on him. He would knock him unconscious and carve open those eyes with his nails if it weren’t for the legs holding his arm down to the ground so hard Type thinks it may break.

Type smirks, spitting out blood. He leans back against the wall and shrugs, flinching lightly when it hurts. “You hired these fuckers just because you can’t take a no?”

The guy smiles and Type slides his eyes away. It’s something about that gaze, reminding him much of-

“Beat him again.”

Type laughs, throwing his head back in glee. It’s cut short when the first punch lands, hitting him on his right jaw. His muscles ache and his body feels like it’s on fire, burning and turning him into dust. The men’s crowding around him, jabbing and kicking continuously to whatever they can reach.

He feels light. Giggly even. His eyelids feel heavy and he doesn’t fight it when it falls. He feels the final pain below his abdomen and Darkness slowly envelopes his body. His body goes limp and he feels himself drop forward.

From the distance, he hears a familiar voice calling out his name. He hears the soft sound of a punch and a light crack before he goes unconscious.

__

Type wakes up, groaning. His eyes flicker open to see dark wooden floors. He frowns when he realizes he’s not laying in the club or on the street. He’s in a tiny room, dark and damp. The lights above him flicker and a feeling of de ja vu rushes through him. When he tries to sit up, a sharp pain jostles through his back. He brings a hand down there, heart dropping when he sees dark blood staining his fingers.

“Little boy..”

He freezes in the voice. His face drops as he shakily turns his hands, noticing the decrease in size and the lack of calluses and cuts. The clothes on him suddenly vanishes and the cold wind brushes against his skin sharply. The sound of steps from outside grow louder and he quickly crawls back in fear, knowing exactly what would happen next.

The door on the edge of the room opens slowly, revealing the pitch black outside world. The creaking sound it makes send chills up to Type’s spine. It sounded like a dying animal, crying out its pain and sorrow in its last breath.

A head slowly appears from the dark, behind the door. The same bulging eyes slide to meet Type’s wide, horrified ones. The same eyes that have been terrorizing his dreams every night. The man smiles widely, yet his eyes never once got smaller. A hand reveals itself from the door and Type watches as it waves slowly to him. It also feels like a mantra, trying to suck Type in a hole full of despair.

“I’m sorry, little boy,” The man whispers. Type’s on the other side of the room, back against the wall as he tries to distance himself as much as possible, but he can hear him perfectly clear. It’s like he’s right beside his ear, whispering raspily. His voice is soft and high and slightly whispy. “I can’t keep you here.”

Type knows what he means. But he can’t help but still feel the confusion. It’s pathetic because he knows the exact next words by heart.

“I have to get rid of you, boy. Gotta kill you and drop your body in the river.”

Type shakes his head, pushing himself backwards but he’s already against the wall. Fear bubbles inside of him and he lets his tears flow down his face. The man creeps closer to him, muttering incoherent words under his breath. There’s a sharp rod in his hands that’s already rusting heavily. The room around him seems to fade away bit by bit, similar shapes of a sharpened pencil waste pulled and fading into the darkness. He has nowhere to go. Nowhere to run and hide.

“Please...don’t hurt me again...”

“Come on, little boy. Don’t be scared. I promise it won’t hurt a bit..”

Type wakes up again. It’s bright. He’s in Tharn’s room.

He lets out a deep sigh, closing his eyes tightly and letting it all sink it. He remembers beating the shit out of random strangers. He remembers that pervert. How’d he get here? Did Techno find him? He slaps a head over his forehead when the migraine spikes. Did Techno tell Tharn? Tharn must be worried sick, he thinks.

He sits up abruptly. Tharn. Where is he?

He throws off the covers, cursing when he feels sharp discomfort as the thick material brushes against his skin. He looks down and sees his stomach wrapped with white, thick bandages. There are dark brown stains in some parts. His eyes slide to his legs, which have plasters and smelly ointment smeared all over. The clothes he remembers wearing last night are gone, replaced with a simple blue t-shirt, which Type knows is Tharn’s and a pair of black shorts.

Tharn’s by the couch, head on his hands. Type approaches him, wary of the thick atmosphere.

“Tharn?” He calls.

Tharn flinches, but he stays unmoving. Type frowns when he hears his boyfriend sigh deeply.

“Tharn?” He calls again, face scrunching up in worry. “Tharn, talk to me.”

He finally drops his hands, turning his head to look at him. Type notices the purplish, red tint around his right eye. His eyes seem bigger than usual, almost threatening to bulge out with the puffiness under them. Type knows he’s been crying. He also notices the way Tharn’s avoiding his eye contact.

“Are you mad?” Type asks.

“No,” Tharn sighs.

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not mad-”

“You know I hate it when you lie-”

“Fine!” Tharn shouts all of the sudden, and Type flinches but he stays there, watching his boyfriend stand up and turns towards him. “I’m mad. I’m fucking _pissed_ , okay? There! Are you happy now?”

Tharn lets out a shaky breath, running his hand through his messy hair. The other hand is clenched so tightly that his veins are bulging out. “What were you _thinking_ , Type? You go out to a bar and start a fucking fight with some random dude? I thought you were past this! I thought all the classes helped. I thought I was helping you.”

“He started it! He kept trying to talk to me. I had to fucking protect myself. If you were me, you would have done the same thing-”

“No. I would leave the place. You _knew_ you were drunk and you still punched him? You don’t know who he is, Type. You can’t just go randomly punching people, you-”

“I do whatever the fuck I want,” Type snaps. He isn’t thinking. He’s just angry and guilt is filling him up but he’s too fucking stubborn to admit it. He can see the hurt that flashes across Tharn’s face but he ignores it.

Tharn rubs his eyes, “Unbelievable.”

“What? That I’m back to fighting again? You’re mad that I’m back to the fucked up kid you knew? You’re mad that all that fucking anger management classes didn’t work?” Type shouts. He bites his lips, clenching his jaw tight to stop himself from crying. His voice grows softer. “He kept touching me, kept talking to me weirdly and I don’t know how else am i supposed to handle that, okay? You wouldn’t understand because-”

“ _Because you never let me!_ ” Tharn says, exasperatedly. Type stops, eyes widening. He watches as Tharn purses his lips, like he’s debating with himself. “I won’t understand because you never let me, Type.

“You think I’m angry because you started the fight? Because you made me run all the way from class and get a black eye? You know I’ll never get mad over that. You know I’ll get the blackeye over and _over_ again to keep you safe. I’m hurt that you don’t trust me. I know you’ve been keeping things from me. You’ve been having these bad dreams over and over again. Why can’t you tell me? Do you not trust me?” Tharn’s voice goes soft and Type feels a piece of his heart breaking. “Am I not doing enough for you to open to me? I had to- I had to get a call from _Techno_ panicking that he couldn’t find you and that he’s afraid you’d go after the guy.

“Why did you tell him to keep all this away from me, Type? I’m your _boyfriend_ , not your dad.” He takes another shaky breath. “Do you know how I felt when I saw you- I saw you on the ground all unconscious..I know you have issues, Type and I still love you for that but you can’t just-” Tharn chokes on his words, wiping away the tears that are flowing down his face. “You can’t just do _shit_ like this. Those weren’t good people. They could have killed you. They could have _raped_ you-”

And that does it. Type’s walls, the walls he’s been holding up, they just break down. It’s like there’s a huge bucket in him and everyday that bucket fills and fills closer to the top. And this is the time, the final fill for it to flow down and spill.

He drops to the ground, crying openly. He feels the muscles on his face trembling,His whole body is trembling. Even as he presses his hand against the cold floor just to hold something, to know that this is raw and real; his hand is also trembling.

He feels arms enveloped him and he throws himself onto Tharn, sobbing into his shoulder unceasingly, hands clutching his shirt like his life depended on him, Tharn’s still crying softly, but he holds him, rocking him slowly as Type’s cries wet his shirt.

“I was raped,” Type stutters between his tears, “I was raped when I was eleven.”

Tharn hushes him, hugging him closer and muttering soft apologies against his hair. Type sighs heavily, blinking his lashes that are soaked with tears, before he cries again. The pain slowly subdues like waves, flowing away from his body. A form of peace grows within him as he realizes he’s opened up to Tharn. And that Tharn hasn’t left him yet. His boyfriend is still here, still holding him close against him and placing soft kisses on his head.

They stay like that, in each other’s arms on the floor until their knees hurt and until Type’s cried enough that his eyes started to burn. Then Tharn carries him to the bedroom and holds him again.

“You’re always more than what I deserve,” Type whispers.

“I’m sorry,” Tharn says.

“Why are you apologizing?”

Tharn stays quiet for a second, “You didn’t have to tell me anything you didn’t want to. And I’m sorry I raised my voice at you.”

They’re laying on the bed and Type sits up, leaning towards Tharn with a serious look. “No. I was wrong for not thinking about my safety enough. I keep forgetting I have people who care about me now. And you didn’t force me. I want to. I’ve been wanting to, but I didn’t have the balls to do it.”

“Then why did you? At the end?” Tharn whispers, eyes wide.

“I guess,” Type looks away, “I guess when I saw how scared you looked at the possibility that you could have lost me...I guess I just realized you’ll never leave me.”

Tharn looks at him confusedly so Type says again, “I was scared you’ll leave me when you know about my past.” He continues before Tharn can open his mouth, “Which I realize now is _so_ fucking stupid. So...so don’t shit on me for that.”

Tharn smiles, the type of smile where his eyes crinkle shut. He lifts his hand, touching Type’s cheek and rubbing his ears gently. Type smiles and closes his eyes in the feeling, subconsciously leaning towards it.

“Alright, fine. I won’t.”

Type opens his eyes. “So you’re not mad that I started the fight?”

“A little bit. But I guess that pervert deserved it.”

“What did you do to him anyway?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I’m here safe and sound so you probably beat their asses. What did you do to them?”

Tharn smirks, pulling Type back to lay down and he goes back to hugging his boyfriend. “That’s only for me to know.”

“Ai’Tharn. Fuck you.”

“Tomorrow,” Tharn whines, rubbing his head to the crook of Type’s neck, making him giggle when it tickles. “Let me rest now. I spent the entire night taking care of you.”

“Sleep. I’ll stay up and guard.”

Tharn just smiles and reaches for his boyfriend’s hand, intertwining it before placing a soft kiss on it. Heat blooms across Type’s face. He looks up to the ceiling with a smile. He finally feels calm. Peaceful. Now that he’s gotten over his biggest fear and opened up to Tharn, he feels like things have finally settled down. He can finally feel himself again. And he’s proven correct when he wakes up the next day without any dreams, and his perfect boyfriend handing him a tray filled with honey cherries pancake.

**Author's Note:**

> so i wanted to write smut at first,, but i just thought that there are just so many things I could write about Type’s story...so ta-da✨ I don’t usually write angst so uhh was it okay? please tell me what you think🥺 you can also leave suggestions for my next writing ehehe okay bye💖 oh also follow my twitter : wonuwuh


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